


bird's-eye view

by zapfinoo



Series: tdc fix-it fics [7]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death Fix, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Realism, Newt is a parrot and Thomas is sad, Post-Canon Fix-It, Reincarnation, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zapfinoo/pseuds/zapfinoo
Summary: “I wish you were here with us,” Thomas sniffles, touching the necklace with shaky hands. “With me. I miss you so much.”Newt wants to tell him that he is, but it's no use. What comes out instead is, “I miss you so much.” Close enough.“Oh,” Thomas breathes, fixing his startled eyes on Newt. “Hey there, little guy. Is your nest around here somewhere? I didn’t mean to invade your space or anything.”“Hey there,” Newt squawks.Or: "He (Newt) loves cheese, he remembered sweet things about his family right before the end, and he was reincarnated as a parrot that becomes Thomas's talking pet." — James Trashner (yes, he actually said that.)
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: tdc fix-it fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/931767
Comments: 28
Kudos: 69





	bird's-eye view

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know, okay? i don't know.

Out of all the animals one could be reborn as, the universe had to choose a parrot for Newt. 

Because of course it did. 

A bloody _parrot_. How very humiliating.

He would’ve been fine with anything else, really. A cat. A dolphin, perhaps. Even something completely pointless, like an insect with a short lifespan so that he could move on to his next life after a day or two. Because that is what happens after you die, apparently.

On the flip side, at least he can fly. And talk, actually. Most of the time, anyway.

(Okay, _sometimes_. He isn’t very good at it yet, alright? He’s only been like this for a week or two.)

The thing is, Newt can’t form his own words, just _repeat_ sentences and phrases that he picks up from others. So to contact his friends, he has to wait for them to say something that fits. It’s the most frustrating thing he has ever experienced, which is saying _a lot_ because he was literally stuck in the middle of a bloody _maze_ for three years. 

To make matters even worse, his friends never say much.

Minho is impossible. He pretends like he’s feeling alright when he’s around the others; he laughs a lot and puts on a relatively convincing facade by doing so—probably because his pride is the most important thing to him, it always has been. But when he’s alone, he takes off the mask and lets it all out. He even lets a few tears spill sometimes. It breaks Newt’s heart into a million different pieces every time because there’s nothing he can do to help him. 

Observing Tommy is painful in a different way because his sadness is heartbreakingly transparent wherever he goes and no matter what he does throughout the day.

He talks to Newt sometimes. He often distances himself from the others, goes somewhere secluded to cry and read the letter Newt gave him, over and over, like it’s the only thing that keeps him tethered to Earth.

Today, Thomas looks gutted. Even more so than usual. Newt can’t figure out why until he flies closer to the circle of people around the bonfire and detects the topic of conversation. 

“Newt would’ve loved this place,” Minho mumbles, gazing at the glistening ocean. His lunch sits next to him on the bench, completely forgotten. 

“Yeah,” Fry agrees. “I miss him.” 

His friends are correct, Newt _does_ love this place. He’d love it a lot more if he wasn’t a buggin’ parrot, though. 

The rest of the group looks at them with eyes filled to the brim with pity, obviously not knowing what to say. 

“I wish I had spent more time with him,” Sonya—no, _Lizzy—_ says, and Newt’s tiny parrot heart breaks in two. That’s the other thing about this horrid situation—right before he died, he remembered some things about his life. For example, the face of his sister. Fantastic timing, that was. “Thomas? I know you guys were close. What was he like?”

“I—I don’t...” Thomas stammers, caught off guard by the sudden question. “I’m sorry, I need to go.” 

“Oh my God, sorry,” Lizzy blurts out. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“It’s okay, Sonya, I just need a walk. I’ll be back soon.”

Newt follows Thomas to his usual hiding spot: a peaceful clearing in the woods where a swing has been constructed. The moment he sits down on it, silent tears start to stream down his cheeks. Newt desperately wishes for human hands to wipe them away with. 

“Minho was right. I think you’d love this place, Newt,” Thomas says, voice breaking. Newt flaps his wings and flies up to a branch of the tree the swing is tied to, quietly observing the boy while unable to reply with anything coherent. 

“I wish you were here with us,” Thomas sniffles, touching the necklace with trembling hands. “With _me_. I miss you so much.”

 _I am, Tommy. I always am,_ Newt wants to tell him, but it is no use. What comes out instead is, “I miss you so much.” Close enough.

“Oh,” Thomas breathes, looking around until he eventually fixes his startled eyes on Newt. “Hey there, little guy. Is your nest around here somewhere? I didn’t mean to invade your space or anything.”

“Hey there,” Newt squawks. Bloody hell, his new voice is annoying. 

Thomas flinches at the response, and a surprised smile spreads across his face. “You’re pretty talkative, aren’t you? That’s so cool.”

 _Excellent choice of words, Tommy_. “You’re pretty.” 

Thomas laughs through his tears, making Newt’s heart soar for a moment before it crashes back to the ground. “Thanks, but there’s no need to be polite. I’m a mess.”

Newt searches for a response in his limited vocabulary. “Don’t cry,” he manages eventually. Luckily, (for him, anyway) that phrase is uttered quite often around here. Thank fuck for all their past trauma. 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad for me,” Thomas mumbles, desperately wiping at his eyes, but new tears keep on coming every second. Newt has never wanted to hug him more than in this moment. “You’re probably wondering why I came here to bother you when I could’ve stayed with my friends, huh? I love them, and I want to be around them, but... I don’t deserve to. Ever since I met them, I’ve put them in danger. Some of them didn’t even make it here, and it’s all my fault.”

Sigh. Tommy and his constant, irrational guilt. “No, it’s okay,” Newt protests.

“It’s not, but thanks. Talking about this is kind of helpful, actually,” Thomas admits, and Newt can finally find comfort in helping him in _some_ way. “You should charge me for your therapy sessions, bud. Here, do you want some food?” Thomas asks, offering him a half-eaten apple.

“Some food,” Newt confirms, descending to Thomas’ level to sit on his shoulder. 

Much to Newt’s delight, Tommy’s lovely smile returns as he watches Newt pick at the apple. It’s great, being able to see his face up close again. He is beautiful—as always—but there are dark circles under his eyes now. Newt is hit with the urge to hold him until he falls asleep in his arms, safe and sound. But that will never happen. They had their chance, but they blew it. The limited amount of time they had together didn’t allow them to ever let their guards down anyway. 

Yes, Newt’s consciousness may be confined to the brain of a parrot now, but he still has the good fortune to be in Thomas’ presence. That is the most important thing, after all.

Perhaps if Newt could get Tommy to talk about him, he could expand his vocabulary and hopefully give him some words of advice. About his past self. In a past life. Christ, this is odd. 

Newt abandons the apple to nip at the string around Thomas’ neck instead.

“Hey, what are you—? Oh, this? My friend Newt gave it to me before he, um... before he died,” Thomas mumbles, faithfully letting Newt keep his place upon his shoulder while he toys with the necklace. “There’s a letter inside and it’s only addressed to me, which... Fry says it’s because he loved me, but I’m not so sure.” 

_Thanks for bloody ratting me out, Fry._

“I mean, what did I ever do that could’ve made him love me?” 

“Everything,” Newt croaks. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Tommy replies in a weak voice. He looks like he might start crying again. Newt would have as well, if he had human tear ducts. “If he really did, then... then we had the worst luck ever, ‘cause I loved him back. I just didn’t realize it until he—until he wasn’t by my side anymore.”

“The worst luck ever,” Newt agrees. 

—

“I miss you so much,” is the first thing Newt says to Thomas when he wakes up the next day. 

The boy in question is lying in his hammock underneath a blanket, looking cuter than usual with messy hair and pillow patterns on his cheek. The urge to wrap his non-existent arms around him is painfully strong.

Thomas rubs the sleep dust out of his eyes and sits up to look at Newt, who is perched on top of a support beam just beneath the ceiling. 

“Aw, I missed you too, bud,” Thomas coos. “Are you hungry? Here, I collected some sunflower seeds yesterday in case you’d show up again.”

Sure enough, Thomas reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of seeds. Newt doesn’t hesitate to jump down onto his outstretched finger, curling his claws around it until he’s safe and secure. 

While Newt munches on the snacks, Minho stirs in his bed next Thomas’ hammock. “Morning, dude. Who’s your new friend?” He asks, bleary-eyed and clearly exhausted. Evidently, nightmares kept them up last night.

“I don’t have a name for him yet,” Thomas replies. “Any suggestions?”

Minho’s groggy morning brain turns out to be completely useless, as usual. “How about... Mustard?”

Newt groans inwardly. 

Thomas genuinely looks offended. “Mu—? What is wrong with you?”

“What? His feathers are yellow!” Minho exclaims, throwing his hands up in protest. “Hey, Mustard, can you say, ‘I’m a shank’?”

“ _You’re_ a shank,” Newt and Thomas say in unison. 

“Woah, look at that,” Minho smirks. “You two must be soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” Newt sighs wistfully, but it comes out as another awful squawk. Fucking hell. 

—

Predictably, Newt gets a lot of attention during supper. He doesn’t want to drag Tommy into it, but he also doesn’t want to sit on anyone else’s shoulder.

“Wow, it’s really attached to you,” Vince says from across the bonfire, obviously trying to stifle a laugh.

“Really attached to you!” Newt repeats, desperate to make Thomas understand, even though it is an impossible mission. 

“Yeah,” Thomas admits, offering Newt another seed. “Maybe if you cared enough to feed him, he’d like you too.”

“Why don’t you kiss him?” Jorge suggests with a mischievous glint in his eye. “He might turn into a prince if you’re lucky.”

Newt certainly isn’t opposed to the idea. He is a bit confused as to why Jorge would say that, however.

Tommy seems to share his thoughts because he almost chokes on his stew. “ _What?”_

“There’s this fairytale from centuries ago,” Jorge explains, “about a cursed prince who got turned into a frog. The only thing that could turn him back was a kiss from his one true love. That bird might be your prince in disguise, hermano.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Thomas scoffs with an adorable blush tinting his cheeks. He never did like it when all eyes were on him, Newt recalls. 

“You don’t need a prince,” Brenda whispers suggestively and (much to Newt’s dismay) places a hand on Thomas’ thigh. “You’ve got a perfectly good princess right in front of you.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Newt screeches and nabs at the girl’s earlobe with his sharp beak. 

It seems to do the trick. Brenda jumps ten feet into the air and withdraws her hand immediately. “Ow! Jesus Christ,” she exclaims. “I think your parrot is possessive of you, Thomas.”

“Possessive of you, Thomas,” Newt confirms proudly. 

—

Thomas has another bad dream that night.

Newt follows him all the way to the far left of the beach even though it’s in the middle of the night and his wings hurt from flying around all day. But when he wrote down the words _I’d follow you anywhere,_ he bloody meant them, alright?

When Thomas sits down cross-legged on his blanket, Newt lands on his knee, gladly providing him with a therapist. A therapist in the form of an inarticulate parrot, but a therapist nonetheless. 

“I can’t do it,” Thomas whispers out into the night before burying his head in his hands. “I can’t live without Newt.”

Newt’s tiny heart won’t be able to take much more of this, he’s sure of it. This _longing_ , this unfathomable yearning to hold Tommy, to talk to him properly, to comfort him. 

“Do it,” Newt says over the roar of the ocean waves. “Live without Newt.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Thomas insists. “I don’t know if I believe in true love, but... if it exists, he must be mine. He’s gone, though, and it’s my fault. If I had just been a little stronger, a little faster—”

“ _T_ _ommy!”_ Newt caws, startling them both. Where had that come from? He hasn’t heard the nickname once since becoming a parrot, so how the hell did he manage to say it? Thanks to irritation over Thomas’ guilt-ridden, idiotic self, probably. Yeah. 

“What—what did you just say?” Thomas stutters, finally lifting his head to look at Newt with wide eyes. “No one has called me that since... since...”

“He must be mine,” Newt continues, frantically begging to be understood. “I believe in true love. He must be mine. He _must_ be mine.”

“Oh my God.” Thomas shakes his head as if to shake off the hysteria he is doubtlessly experiencing. “I’ve completely lost it, ‘cause I’m about to do something really stupid,” he blabbers. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind. Please don’t bite me.”

Newt doesn’t even flinch when Thomas leans in to press a chaste kiss to his beak. 

He does flinch a bit when he transforms back to his old self, however. 

And when he finds himself lying naked on the beach. 

Squeaking, Newt reaches for the blanket and wraps it around himself at the speed of light. Worried that he might’ve seen something he shouldn’t, he looks to Thomas for answers.

But the other boy isn’t next to him anymore. In his state of shock slash panic, Tommy had apparently sprinted several feet away before falling right back down onto the sand. 

Newt walks up to him on wobbly, unadjusted feet. With the blanket wrapped around his waist, he feels a tad more confident. 

“I’m your true love, then?” Newt grins, stretching out his hand to offer it to Thomas. “Good to know.”

Thomas takes it and lets himself be pulled up into a standing position. “Newt,” he breathes, clearly in disbelief. 

Newt can’t believe that worked either, but he’s definitely happy it did. Being a parrot was bloody exhausting. 

“Hi, Tommy,” Newt whispers and is surprised when his voice breaks. “ _My_ Tommy. Long time no see, yeah?”

A noise of frustration is heard by Thomas before he wraps his arms around Newt’s neck, pressing their bodies and foreheads together. They stand like that for a while with their eyes closed, sharing the same air. Sharing the same perfect, miraculous moment.

Thomas opens his eyes, which are blurry due to their close proximity. His wild, searching gaze flickers from Newt’s eyes down to his mouth, and they both only hesitate for a single second before leaning in to meet each other in the middle.

The kiss is a desperate, passionate thing, yet still gentle somehow. Newt tightens his hold on Thomas’ waist, wanting him closer even though it is practically impossible. 

Newt opens his mouth and deepens the kiss in an effort to show Thomas just how much he’s been longing for this very moment. Thomas licks into his mouth and, Jesus bloody Christ, it feels so good that Newt might die (again). He whimpers into the kiss when he feels Tommy’s fresh tears mix with his own.

When Newt pulls back for air, Thomas follows him and kisses him once more, apparently deciding that he hasn’t had enough quite yet. They proceed to share perfect, intimate touches that can barely be described as kisses, but rather relieved sighs and featherlight lips softly brushing against one another’s. 

Newt lets his hands travel up to Thomas’ cheeks when they part for real, and he finally gets to wipe away his tears. He does it gently like the boy is made out of glass.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing quick kisses all over Thomas’ tear-streaked face. “I’m here, my love. You’re alright. You don’t have to live without me ever again.”

“You taste like sunflower seeds,” Thomas says through a noise that sounds like a laugh and a sob at the same time. 

Newt didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t those words. “I—? Yeah, maybe because that’s all you bloody gave me!”

They both burst into a fit of breathless laughter, and Tommy’s tears turn into happy ones. 

Mission accomplished.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know about you guys, but /i/ think i'm hilarious
> 
> btw, [here's](https://twitter.com/fIarevirus/status/1368578628678746114?s=20) a fun visual for you parrot!newt stans out there


End file.
